Remainder of the freshies, Baldy, 2/28/10

One of the hardest things about living in Southern California, for me at least, is dealing with the lack of quality skiing, snowboarding, or freeheeling (telemarking), and to a lesser extent, cross country skiing. Now, I know what people will say – 1) Southern Californians will complain about anything; and 2) that Big Bear is great skiing. To the second point, my response is simply this: “no”. Big Bear is not great skiing. I’ve skied Chile, New Zealand, the Alps, Utah, Oregon, and the better parts of California. Big Bear, quite simply, is not great skiing. Big Bear is skiing, I’ll give you that. If you want – or need to learn – any of the resorts up there – Bear Mountain, or Snow Summit, are probably great places to learn. The terrain is not that steep, and there’s a lot of novice runs. Also, if you want to hang out with your friends, or not drive the six to eight hours to the Sierras, it’s decent for a day.

However, if you are above intermediate skill level, and like to get out there, Big Bear is not the place for you. Unfortunately, there are few other options in the area – you can go full on backcountry on a number of ridges and mountains, assuming there is enough snow, and also assuming one likes a hike to get up for your run. I would know, since I try to backcountry ski San Jacinto at least once a year. Great open runs – but lots of work to do. The other solution: Baldy. Baldy is a semi-little known resort here in Southern California. I say, “semi-little” because while it was a locals only type resort for many years, the word is now out. It is hard to keep such a secret from all of LA and San Diego, though, to be honest. The resort bills itself as the “steepest terrain” in all of Southern California. This is one case where the billing is correct. The runs are steep, challenging, and best of all, provide great access to several great backcountry areas. Last year, my friend and I bombed down a narrow chute from near the summit ridge to almost the bottom – a truly great experience. This year, even though we got out after a recent storm (the best time to go, for sure), the coverage was not quite as good, so we stuck to some more traditional routes. If you do decide to check it out, note that it’s a true old school resort with no high speed quads and fancy trappings. But, no matter what, there’s always an adventure to be had there – whether it’s finding questionable bags, meeting interesting people for a pint, or getting in some quality runs. For information on how to find your way there, check out their site here: http://www.mtbaldy.com/,and be sure to enjoy the best part of Baldy: riding/skiing in t-shirts by the end of the day as the sun cooks you and the snow

The third problem was almost the blog killer. Writing this blog was taking away from my dream. You know, that dream to be a writer. Sure, blogging is writing, and writing can be used to blog, but when I say that I wanted – and want to be a writer, I mean that I want to write about the worlds in my head that exist in no known dimension. My dream is to tell those stories – and this blog was taking away from that, if not preventing it. It was preventing it because, surprisingly, there is not enough time in the day to do everything, what with having a real job, and doing real mundane things. This problem was the back-breaker, along with the fear, and the complacency, and while I pondered it, time wasted too fast.

Fortunately, seven hundred and seventy seven days is a lot of time to ponder a solution. It would have been easy to walk away from this, and just focus solely on writing about those imaginary worlds. That solution was unsatisfying to me. Sure, it was practical, but in my experience as a writer, nothing is ever that simple. There may be days where it is unerringly easy to write about mythical mountains and lost lands, but there may also be days where one simply wants to talk about how that last Thursday was completely ridiculous. Also, there’s that nagging desire to be known, and that pesky feeling of having something to contribute to the information overload of the world.

My solution was that I’m going to keep the blog for now as an outlet, but things are going to change. By now, you already know enough about me, so I’m going to move away from the backstory. (http://www.lastadventurer.com/last-adventurers-firering/). Having said that, there’s probably going to be a point where I want to finish telling some stories of back in the day, and I will – so, if you’re that interested, check in occasionally to see if there’s anything new. The main area, here, is going to be a lot different. It’s going to be non-linear, for starters – and it’s going to talk about things other than just adventuring around. Shocking, I know.

Never fever, however, there still will be plenty of talk about adventuring. It’s just going to be different talk, in that there will be more of a focus on photographs. While photographs aren’t memories, they’re great for capturing the unique – and for inspiring and aiding people to do many things, including get out and see these things in what time they have, and in what time the things have. Photographs are great timeslices. In conjunction with more visual images, there’s going to be less text – because less text equals less time, and frankly, because that’s what people want in a blog these days. I know there are probably at least one or two doubters out there, wondering if I can keep my posts under five hundred words, but frankly, I think I’m up for the challenge. This is not to say there won’t be longer stories, because eventually, I’d like to incorporate snippets of those far off places of the mind here, but overall, things will be short and sweet. My analogy at this point is that for the first five years, this blog has been in two dimensions – words, and more words – and has followed the line of time. In its new iteration, it’s moving to three dimensions – words, memories, and photos, and is going to navigate the stream of time between the present and the past as it chooses. So, strap yourself in, mythical reader, because the ride is going to be interesting, and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I have and will.

-the LA

What I can say is that if I had any readers originally, and for a time, I definitely had at least one or two, I drove them off with easy aplomb by not posting. I know what people are thinking, and what the indexing bots are wondering: “Why didn’t you at least re-post articles you found interesting, or better yet, post two line posts next to the same articles that provide no additional insight or content?”. The answer to this question is simple. If I’m going to drive away my readers, I’m going to take the shortest point from a to b. I’m going to flat out do nothing, so that no one is under any illusions about what is going on: for those seven hundred and seventy seven days, absolutely nothing was going on. If, two weeks ago, I had chosen to stop, take my site down, and walk away, I could at least have told people that I had a little-known-but-semi-popular-blog for a period of time, which sounds quasi-respectable until I told them that the content was adventure stories based on my life. However, since I decided to return to my blog, I now have to tell people that I have a blog that used to have readers, but no longer does, even though occasionally my friends’ dogs take pity on me and at least log onto the website to make it look like I’m getting traffic. What can I say. I’m stubborn, and I like a challenge.

When I stopped posting seven hundred and seventy seven days ago, I was recounting the story of the first Pizza Port expedition in one section. I had just got to the place where we were halfway up the mountain, when I stopped. (http://www.lastadventurer.com/last-adventurers-fieldnotes/2008/1/2/the-first-and-last-pizza-port-mountaineering-expedition-day.html ). In the other section, I was midway through describing a blow-by-blow account of a long lost fight. (http://www.lastadventurer.com/last-adventurers-firering/episode-lxxxxiv-failures-to-communicate-usually-lead-to-fist.html ). Good news: in real life, I haven’t been leading that expedition, or fighting that fight all of this time. Spoiler alert: I, and everyone else made it up and off the mountain, and I won the fight. All of this begs the question of what I have been doing all of this time. It’s clear that I didn’t suffer some terrible fate and pass on, as one concerned e-mailer inquired a long long time back. Or did I? After all, wouldn’t it be a harsh fate to pass on, and then be returned to blog about events that had happened back in your actual life to an audience that may not exist? I think I have just hit upon a new, modern twenty-first century version of purgatory. Someone get me the Pope on the pope-phone. Rest assured potential readers: if I am the undead now, I am not nearly as sparkly in real life as vampires have oddly been made out to be.

 As to where I have been and what I have been doing, all will be revealed in due time. In fact, at times, it feels like I stepped out of one, comfortable dimension in which everything was moving like a well-maintained clock, to one where the world had no gears, and things moved in a chaotic mess, to one where things moved in surreal backwards steps to wherever I find myself now. Also, I’d ask that you note that the prior sentences are a figurative depiction of my life during the last seven hundred odd days or so, not a literal depiction. I do not actually think that I have traveled between different planes of the multiverse. At least I don’t think that for real yet. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I do think that, so someone can send for the men in the white coats to find me a nice jacket and a comfy padded cell. The good news is that I’m back, and while I’m not necessarily going to pick up where I left off, there is going to be progress that’s not completely disorderly. Don’t worry – what’s going to come is good – I promise. And if it’s not good, since this is a free service, you get a refund of nothing. So strap yourselves in, and get ready to get a glimpse of things past and present, and if we’re lucky, the future.

“Yes,” He said calmly, hiding the can’s label from the rest of us. “I need it, because it contains my….” And with a flourish, he whipped his hand off the label so we could all see what it said, “…my victory BUD LIGHT!!!”

For the next several minutes, laughter poured out of the driveway of Lumonox’s house and into the surrounding sleeping houses of his neighborhood. I could only laugh until my stomach hurt. It was six hours until we arrived at the Whitney Portal, and it was less than one day until we started the climb, and instead of being absolutely ready to go, we were having comedy hour in Lumonox’s driveway. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. After everything that had happened, deep down inside in my core, I had known it was going to be like this. It wasn’t a surprise. And despite everything that wasn’t perfect, I found that I was fine with the situation. The group, despite their best – or worst efforts, was consistently out of their element. It happened. All it meant was that I was going to have to laugh when I could, and watch everyone like a hawk for every other waking moment that it wasn’t comedy hour. I was ready; I had been in similar situations before, and since I hadn’t lost anyone – or their appendages yet, I was confident that despite the flaws that were present in the group, I could lead everyone up and down yet another mountain safely.

With that goal firmly in mind, I laughed again, and banged on the roof of the car and yelled something inane to the members of Team Legendary like “saddle up, Team Legendary”. Somewhere, in the flood of relentless last minute e-mails and calls, Lumonox had come up with the names “Team Legendary” and “Team Cool Kids” to designate our two carloads traveling to Whitney. Team Legendary was my carload of Lumonox, E-Rock, and OG. Team Cool Kids was the truck carrying Ms. Super-Athlete (“Ms. SA”) and her boyfriend, Stouty Yeti (“SY”)– so named for his beer preference and his unnatural obsession with all things sasquatch, and not for any actual physical attributes, because even I was taller and heavier than him in build.

The over-heavy packs thudded into the back of my car, and I slammed the hatch shut. While I and everyone else had plenty of doubts about what we were doing, it was clear that we had made one good decision to start the trip – taking my car. Before we had loaded my car to the gills, there had been a brief talk about taking E-Rock’s car. In all actuality, there hadn’t even been a talk. E-Rock had offered to drive; and the rest of us had stared silently at the pile of gear, which wouldn’t have fit in the trunk or the backseat of his small, German-made car. E-Rock had then stated that we should take my car. I didn’t mind – taking my car meant that I got to be where I was most comfortable – behind the wheel. It also meant that everyone else had a little more room, and that Lumonox got to bring his cooler, even though we had made it abundantly clear that it wouldn’t be leaving the parking lot. With one last look at my partially obstructed rear window, I swung into the driver’s seat and started the engine. There was no turning back now – I really was taking the group to the mountain.

1) Backpack: I carried my dependable Bora80 Arc’Teryx Pack. It wasn’t full on the way up, but I was glad to have the extra room on the way down to carry some gear for some other people.

2) Sleeping bag. I carried my North Face 15 degree bag. While it was cold, I managed to stay warm in it, but probably just barely.

3) Bivy Sack. I own a lightweight Black Diamond Lightsabre bivy sack. I had to really stake it down because of high wind, it worked great.

4) Sleeping Pad. I’m not sure who makes my pad, but it is lightweight and packs down well. In cold weather, it’s really good to be up off the ground.

5) First Aid kit. It didn’t see major use, but I did pass out a fair amount of Motrin and Moleskin.

6) Water Filer. I always carry a Miox water filter, which is lightweight and does a great job.

7) Backpacking stove. I swear by the PocketRocket by MSR. Again, on this trip up at 12,000 feet, it worked like a charm in heavy winds, while one of my climbing partners couldn’t get his Jetboil to even start!

9) Bear Canister. Someone has to carry it for the group!

10) 4 Nalgene 1 Liter Bottles. This is where I could shed some weight, if I went with a soft plastic bladder, but since I have the bottles, I use them.

11) Matches/Lighter/Compass/Map/Emergency blanket/knife/TP/Poop bags/Sunscreen

12) Boots. I’ve been wearing a pair of Asolos for the last two years, good boots. I supplement my arches and overall foot comfort with a pair of Superfeet. Prior to the Asolos, I had some Salomon mountaineering boots, and before that some Vasques. All three brands make a quality boot, in my opinion.

13) 2 pairs socks. This is my personal luxury item for any backpacking trip. They don’t take up much room, but your feet always seem to feel better at the end of the day when you can put clean socks on them.

14) 1 pair long underwear. I brought my mid-weight Patagonia capaline underwear. Since the weekend ended up being unseasonably warm, I was fine, but there were a few windy moments where I wished I had something a little heavier.

15) 1 pair of "convertible" pants

16) Wind resistant fleece jacket.

17) Wind-Water resistant fleece jacket.

18) Wind resistant fleece hat; brimmed light weight ball-cap.

19) Pair of mid-weight gloves; pair of light-weight liner gloves. I didn’t really use my mid-weight gloves that much, but the light-weight gloves were great for cooking, filtering water, and just general up and down the trail use.

20) Camera

21) Crampons. I use a pair of Black Diamond “Sabretooth” Crampons. I’ve had them for five plus years, and they’ve never let me down in any way.

22) Ice Axe. Again, I use another Black Diamond product (With all of this product placement for them, you’d think I work for them, but alas, I do not. How about some free stuff guys?), the Raven Pro. I got mine as a gift several years ago; as it’s the third ice axe I’ve owned; and probably the fifth I’ve used extensively, I can say that like the crampons, it is a quality product and has never let me down.

23) Food.

24) Sunglasses.

The only thing I didn’t bring that would have been helpful was a book, or something to pass the time on Saturday night. As I’m sure many people will notice and will be quick to point out, I didn’t take a waterproof shell. I didn’t carry my shell with me this time because I was 99% certain that it would not rain or snow during our trip. While I do realize that nothing is ever certain on the mountain, it was a calculated risk I was willing to take on this occasion based on my in-depth study of the weather. At the weigh station at Whitney Portal, my pack was forty-five pounds! As part of the weight was group gear, and I knew that I could bear the weight, I wasn’t concerned, but for novice hikers, be aware that even when you carry the minimum, like myself, everything does add up!

I kept this second status e-mail short and sweet. After all, I wanted to make sure it was actually read by the Dirty Dozen. On the off chance that a paragraph was still too much to read, I sent a link containing pictures of the trail taken several days before. In the e-mail, I strongly suggested that everyone come prepared with crampons and or ice axes. In stark contrast to the first e-mail, I received quite a few responses to this second informational message. Some of the messages were humorous: “Time to go battle Yetis”. And some of the messages were practical: “Where can we rent crampons?” By far, however, the bulk of the responses were one thing and one thing only: cancellations. In the end, it turned out that my hypothesis about providing information wasn’t all bad; it just merely was flawed. It turned out that I merely had to provide the right information to motivate people.

Up to the point of the second, or as I later called it “the shake down” e-mail, the group was the Pizza Port Dirty Dozen, so named for all twelve people headed to the mountain. After the e-mail, the group was the Dirty Half-Dozen. It was still five people more than I originally thought would go, but it was half of our reservation quota. Once people learned there was snow and ice on the trail, they dropped out of the expedition faster than free beer disappeared on a Thursday night. Some people, like the Pink Princess had no excuse other than deciding that they didn’t really want to go after all. Other people had bizarre reasons. One said that he didn’t have the insurance – whether that meant life or medical insurance, I never was quite clear. Another former “gung-ho” climber suddenly contracted temporary amnesia, claiming not to remember paying me for the permit, receiving any prior Mt. Whitney e-mails, participating in any Mt. Whitney climbing conversations, or even knowing who I or anyone else in the group were.

I didn’t care. For all intents and purposes, I didn’t care one bit. I didn’t need excuses, and I didn’t want excuses. If people dropped out, that was their business, and that was one less person I had to worry about on the mountain, and that was all that mattered to me. The last week before the hike, after all the cancellations had occurred, I spent a fair amount of time coordinating the last minute details with the remaining members of the Dirty Half Dozen. By the time the trip rolled around, I had a good feeling about the group. It was smaller than we had planned, but the people that had stayed were the ones that were most motivated and prepared. I still had concerns, but for the first time in several months, I actually was somewhat confidant that the first Pizza Port mountaineering expedition, the Dirty Half Dozen, might actually make it to the summit of the mountain.